Woke up in Austin with Nudity and the Old Haunts at Corinne and Jeremiah’s pad and after a nice morning porch hang, went to eat with all of us and Otto and then to a river swimming hole that had been turned into a big pay-to-swim swarming-with-human-masses thing so I didn’t go swimming. Then we left the others there and headed out to Dripping Springs to the Nudie Ranch, over a bunch of winding rural Texan back roads. We got there and nude Guy (no, that’s his name) comes out to greet us at the gate. There’s an open field with an array of tents and vehicles and trailers and motorhomes and mostly nude people milling about, or soaking in hot tubs (2 of ‘em) or having sex. Oh, and a rickety small wooden stage. We unloaded our stuff and set it up and then stripped down to our shoes (the Texas soil is full of potentially painful burrs - but nude with shoes is just such a great look anyway) and wandered around a bit, and sat in a hot tub with a bunch of folks, and a woman pretty damn hopped up on something took a shine to Eryn, Jo-Jo was her name, and asked him if we play “Margaritaville.” Unfortunately, we don’t. Later in the afternoon, Eryn found himself unwittingly walking past Jo-Jo’s motorhome, and was summoned in by her ostensibly to further discuss music, but was a bit disconcerted to find her holding a beer in one hand and a double-dong in the other. She then tried to tell him that her boyfriend is really into “That one, um... Reggae guy... I can’t remember what he’s called...” “Uh, Bob Marley?” suggested Eryn. “Y-e-e-e-a-a-a-h-h, that’s him!” “Okay then,” whereupon Eryn quite wisely extricated himself from her INCREDIBLY stoned gaze. After the hot tubbing, which included someone snapping a few pictures and everyone in there except us covering their faces, I wandered over to the pool while Chris and Josh smoked a bowl with Guy, and found 3 people doing something together in the pool, a woman giving a man in a lawn chair the most bored handjob imaginable, and a very large shaven-headed black guy giving a possibly larger woman oral sex. A bit later, we headed back to the stage to play our set, passing a 3-man tent with 3 men and 2 ladies having a pretty cozy little orgy. I don’t think the tent was rated for that occupancy. As we were getting ready to play, and trying to find places where our equipment wouldn’t topple over, and get the PA going - which did later topple, and MAY have been loud enough for spoken word at Traditions - a motorhome pulled up and John, the local “sound tech” (naked except for the gigantic band-aid on his stomach) started telling us in rather reverential tones about the guru-like fella driving it, and how he just travels around to various nudist gatherings all year long, and that this year he’s rumored to be bringing his “Fucksaw,” which apparently consisted of a Saws-all with a dildo stuck on the end of it - how hot is that? So eventually we started playing. At first it was a bit funny - especially Josh, in his coonskin hat and red-white-and-blue shades, but that soon mellowed out, and it didn’t even feel that weird other than how outdoor daytime shows always feel kinda odd. We played a pretty sweet set to maybe 25 people, kind of coming and going, hanging about 25 feet back from the stage, and a bunch more listening from wherever they happened to be at. Lots of picture-taking, like 4 or 5 cameras, which eventually turned to photograph another spectacle a few yards away where Jo-Jo, still tripping heavy balls, or whatever she was on, had managed to get herself tied to the front of her Winnebago and was getting licked by another woman in an obvious display of exhibitionism and not desire. 4 or 5 dudes were gathered around trying to get a piece of the action. This is what we were looking at as we were finishing up our set. “Don’t be surprised by anything you may see out here,” we were told. Will do. The owner of the whole 14 acres (“Kind of the Hugh Hefner of Dripping Springs,” said Guy) apparently came and watched us for a bit and didn’t pull the plug as we were warned he would if we were too loud, but had to return to his big house to calm his hysterical stepdaughter whom apparently regularly freaks out when they have these 3-or-4-a-year parties. After we played, I told people to buy our shirts so they could clearly state their preference for being nude when the man makes them wear clothes. That worked on a few of ‘em, and we sold a few cd’s and posters, too, actually, I think just out of the novelty of it all. We packed up our stuff and took another dip in the hot tub and pool (“Be careful going in that pool,” said Hef’s wife. “My son went in and then I told him not to let anyone see what the cold water did to his PARTS!”) and went to Guy and Paula’s trailer full of cheesy psychedelic internet printouts and two iguanas. They were super nice folks tho, and stoked we were there. Before leaving, Guy asked if we wanted to do some DMT. “It’ll make you feel like you’re dying for the initial rush.” Eryn and I politely declined, but Chris and Josh took him up on it. So he took them to a spot just a few yards from the van and they smoked it, and then literally stumbled hazily back to the van. At first it hit them both similar, and totally fucked up their muscle control, but as soon as we had driven out of the Nudie Ranch gate, Josh made us stop while he got out of the van and had a total freakout. Chris was fine after a minute, just chilling on the bench seat in the warm Texas sun, but Josh was seriously freaked and paranoid as hell, like, “We have to take off this sticker of a bulldog that I put on the back of the van earlier today, I feel like it’s too conspicuous, I can’t get it off, does anyone have a straight razor?” “Can we please, just no one say ANYTHING for the next, like ten minutes.” “Just, just 5 more minutes here, what’s 5 more minutes?” as he crouches next to the whitewashed wall and then stands up, shirtless, be-coonskin-hatted, in white pants, raising his arms to the sun goddess. “Okay, we have to throw away the directions to the Nudie Ranch in case we get pulled over, we can’t have them trace anything.” And then after we get going finally, “Dave, back off this car, they’re gonna pull over any minute, if they pull over, you gotta just gun it, I’m serious, oh man, they’re gonna stop and all get out, Dave you gotta just gun it!” This for a car in front of us just slowly looking for an address. And so on. Meanwhile, Chris is almost fully reclined on the back seat, lazily drawling, “Oh, you know what sounds really good right now? A popsicle!”

1 comment:

Woah! Popsicle! This is Classic! Texas is the reason. burrs in yr butt. Naked rock is good rock. I saw Fitz of the Depression play naked once. Tim from Kreamy 'Lectric Santa always played naked...seems like, who else?...I won't mention the famous guys...who else plays naked?...Tobi says, Butthole Surfers and Frightwig...hmm...Tragic Mulatto too she says...I think Tomas from Beefeater played naked sometimes...but a totally naked band...few dare to these rarified heights!